


Words Are Overrated

by heeroluva



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Accidental Bonding, M/M, Polyamory, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler had gone on bond suppressants when he was fourteen after seeing his teammate bond and subsequently drop hockey soon after because his bondmate didn’t like it. Tyler wasn’t going to give up hockey for <i>anyone</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words Are Overrated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teshumai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teshumai/gifts).



The Kings weren’t going to the playoffs. The phrase looped through Tyler’s brain, the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears enough to drown out the roaring of the crowd as his team skated off the ice. The locker room was mostly silent as the guys stripped out of their gear. Maybe they’d been spoiled by their previous playoff runs, maybe they hadn’t played hard enough because they expected to place easy. The list went on and on, and Tyler had to bite down the growing nausea. 

Tyler knew better than to do this to himself, to let himself get lost in the what ifs. It was a road they were warned against time and time again. But he couldn’t shut his brain off. He knew that there was always next season, that they could learn from their mistakes, that they could do better, but right now, all he could feel was empty. 

 

Boarding the plane that would take them home, Tyler briefly considered taking the empty seat next to Martin (Tanner’s seat his brain unhelpfully reminded him), but knew that his mood was unlikely to help Martin’s who was still blaming himself for their previous loss. It was a long flight. 

 

Locker room cleanout went about as horrible as Tyler expected, but it could have been worse. The media at least wasn’t kicking them while they were down, mostly focusing on the future, what they’d change next season, instead of the end of their playoff season before it even started. 

Afterwards Tyler found himself on the couch wedged between Martin and Tanner despite the fact that the sectional and chairs left more than enough room for them to spread out. Tyler couldn’t find it in himself to complain, and just accepted the wordless comfort as Martin randomly flipped through channels, not really stopping long enough on anything to see what was on. 

Finally Tanner had enough and reached across Tyler, snatching the remote from Martin and switching it to Food Network. Tyler rolled his eyes as Martin pouted but didn’t say anything. Really Tyler hated the channel because it always left him feeling hungry. Today was no exception, and finally having enough, Tyler asked, “Chinese?” 

As though on cue, Martin’s stomach growled, and Tyler laughed as he reached for his phone, thumbing down to their favorite Chinese place. Tyler rattled off the order from memory.

“Remember to get extra crispy wontons,” Tanner so helpfully added as he nudged Tyler’s arm, who had to fumble not to drop the phone.

“I forgot once,” Tyler complained after hanging up. “ _Once!_ ”

Martin laughed. “And he’ll never let you forget it.”

“Never,” Tanner agreed.

Looking between Martin and Tanner’s smiling faces, something unexpected twisted in Tyler’s chest, and Tyler wasn’t proud to say that he all but ran to the bathroom, spending enough time in there silently freaking out that a concerned Tanner eventually knocked on the door. 

“You okay in there?” Tanner asked through the door.

Drawing an unsteady breath, Tyler was happy that his voice didn’t quaver as he opened the door. “Yeah, sorry. It just hit me, you know?”

Tanner studied him for a moment, and Tyler had half a fear that he could read the half-lie across his face. 

But finally Tanner nodded, and gestured back towards the living room. “Martin’s worried.”

The _Go fix it._ wasn’t said, but Tyler could hear it, and shamefaced went to do just that. He wasn’t sure why he was so relieved that the doorbell rang, and his freak out was seemingly forgotten. 

As Tyler dug into his food, he didn’t noticed the speculative glance that Tanner and Martin shared before they began to eat as well.

 

Safely at his apartment (not home, not for a while now), Tyler couldn’t help but think about his least favorite subject: bonds. Tyler had gone on bond suppressants when he was fourteen after seeing his teammate bond and subsequently drop hockey soon after because his bondmate didn’t like it. Tyler wasn’t going to give up hockey for _anyone_. And really he didn’t understand his teammates’ sudden obsession with bonds. His parents weren’t bonded, and they were one of the happiest and most affectionate couples he’d ever seen (often to Tyler’s embarrassment). Tyler just didn’t see the draw. 

That didn’t really change over the years as most bonded couples Tyler met liked to shove it in people face that they were bonded. It was a like a switch was flipped, and they suddenly wanted everyone to know. 

When the rumors began that Tanner and Martin were bonded, Tyler scoffed because yeah right. Tyler was their best friend and spent more time at their house than his own apartment (“you should just move in already” they’d said multiple times, but he’d always declined because a small part of him always felt like he was intruding). Despite knowing better than to listen to rumors, especially unfounded rumors about his own teammates, it was that small part that finally got him wondering. 

If they were bonded, and they were hiding, why? Where they worried about how the team would react? Or were they worried about the NHL’s reaction? It had long ago been proven that while bondmates were more naturally attuned to each other on the ice, it gave them no more advantage than long time teammates, or players who just clicked together and weren’t bonded. 

More often than not, Tyler forced himself to not think about it, because if they didn’t tell him, he didn’t need to know. It was none of his business, even if he had the hots for his best friends, even if he just realized, he was just the tinniest bit in love with them, right?

“Fuck,” Tyler moaned into his pillow. He was so screwed and not in the fun way. 

It took a long time for Tyler to fall asleep that night.

 

The thing about suppressants was that people couldn’t take them all the time. Long story short, to stay healthy and sane, the portion of the brain responsible for bonds couldn’t be blocked all the time, or all sorts of unpleasant stuff will happen. Tyler had read up on it once, and wished he hadn’t, but it was enough to scare him so much that he wasn’t going to try it out. His implant lasted for eight months (the longest medically allowed), and for the remainder of the year, Tyler went back to the fallback bracelets, the old magnetic ones that scientists still couldn’t say for sure why they worked, which everyone who didn’t want to bond used before chemical suppressants were created.

The downside to the bracelets was that they weren’t one hundred perfect effective, only about 95%, and it was enough of a risk that Tyler spent his summers being careful not to touch anyone who wasn’t family or wasn’t bonded. 

Sometimes it was lonely, but Tyler knew it was better than a bond. 

 

Much to his mother’s displeasure, Tyler decided that he wasn’t going to visit his family early despite the sudden opening in his calendar. He wasn’t ready for his family’s pity. It was bad enough to deal with over the phone; he didn’t think he could stand it in person and hoped it would fade away before his visit. 

Tyler did a lot of not thinking, not thinking about the King’s dashed playoff dreams, not thinking about bonds, not thinking about his feelings for Tanner and Martin (easier said than done). He wasn’t going to be _that guy_ , the one who rocked the boat with his own selfish desires. 

 

When July 1st rolled around and the reminder popped up on his phone that his implant had expired, Tyler had already been wearing his bracelet for the last week, so he thought nothing of walking around the house in boxers, the AC struggling (and failing) to fight the heat wave that had settled over sunny southern California. He was from Canada and played a sport on ice. He wasn’t equipped to handle this type of weather. 

Opening the fridge, Tyler fought the urge to just stand there and bask, instead grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and savoring the near icy mouthful. Martin and Tanner seemed to have similar thoughts about the temperature because they were both sprawled on opposite ends of the sectional, each with a fan trained on them, each equally undressed, and Tyler wasn’t entirely sure where to look. At least they both seemed too absorbed in their discomfort to notice his attention, and he had time to gather himself, and said, “Move,” as he settled into the corner of the sectional. 

Neither of them listened of course, so Tyler sat on two pairs of feet.

Three things happened at once: all of them jolted as though attached to an electric current, Tyler scrambled to his feet, nearly falling into the coffee table before he caught himself, and both Martin and Tanner reached for him, pulling him back down before he could escape, trapping him between him. 

He was shaking, Tyler realized. No, that was wrong. They were all shaking, trembling as though they were cold even though they were all glistening with sweat. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what this was, but this couldn’t be happening. Was this shock? Could you go into shocking from bonding? 

It took Tyler a long while to realize that he wasn’t just feeling his own shock and confusion, but also Tanner and Martin’s.

“This can’t be real.”

Martin pinched him hard, and both Tanner and Tyler yelped as Martin flinched and reached down rub his own side. “Well, that sure felt real.”

“Asshole,” Tanner said with more affection than heat. 

“But you were already bonded,” Tyler said, still struggling to make sense of what was happening. Three ways bonds were rare, but adding a third bond to pair bond was pretty much unheard of, or at least Tyler had never heard of it. 

Tanner and Martin shared a look before Tanner said, “Uh, no we weren’t. You can feel it. We’re as startled as you.” 

“Bu—but everyone knew,” Tyler sputtered, suddenly at a loss.

Martin burst out laughing, near hysterical for a long minute before he finally calmed. “Sorry, sorry. I may have told a guy in the Monarchs who was giving me shit for my relationship with Tanner that we were bonded. There are still some people who think that same sex relationships, especially without a bond are wrong.”

Tyler wasn’t sure if the sudden wave of protectiveness came from Tanner or him, or maybe both of them, and it was weird. Closing his eyes, Tyler drew a steadying breath. He kept his eyes closed, heart racing as he felt both Martin and Tanner’s attention shift towards him. “Why aren’t you freaking out?” Tyler finally asked. 

“There are worst possibilities?” Tanner tried to joke, but falling short.

Martin poked Tanner in the side, a move that made them all jerk again. “Not everyone has your aversion to bonding. I was only on suppressants because the NHL required it during the season.” 

Tyler wasn’t sure what he was feeling, and his eyes snapped to Martin’s face, watching the blush spread across his skin.

“And I may have thought about this.” 

“This?” Tanner asked, a strange note in his voice. “The three of us, bonded or…” Tanner trailed off, a suddenly wicked grin on his face.

“Yes,” Martin agreed.

The sudden wave of lust was almost like a physical blow, and Tyler groaned because he’d been an idiot. Teeth scraped against his neck, and Tyler hissed. “Shower?” he asked, suddenly aware that it was still far too hot for this here.

The answer Tyler received wasn’t verbal, and Tyler decided that sometimes words were overrated.


End file.
